


Something Rising

by GhostGirl, wowl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 09:51:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13544862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGirl/pseuds/GhostGirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wowl/pseuds/wowl
Summary: Dean knows that the only way to persuade Cas to help him get out is to convince him that the heavenly command is wrong and that he should be on the side of humanity... Now he's just got to convince him of the things that are good about being human. And if there's one thing that's great about being human that Dean's really great at demonstrating, it's kissing.





	1. Lucifer Rising

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One set in the episode 'Lucifer Rising' (S4E22), the fic moves onward from there. Rating for Chapter Two onward.
> 
> ***REPOST*** from my old account that I can't seem to get into anymore. I want all my fics in one place so... here it is again.
> 
> Written for a friend who, when watching 'Lucifer Rising' with me, said "This scene needs re-writing to include kissing." And lo! I did re-write it to include kissing.
> 
> Dialogue taken from the original scene is quoted exactly and not written by me. All the stuff in between their words, and the new bits, are of course mine. Characters are awesome but not mine, I just like to play with them and use them for my nefarious purposes.
> 
> This is the first part of a planned series, some chapters being re-written scenes like this one, others being entirely new. I hope you like it!

'You can’t reach him, Dean,’ said Castiel. ‘You’re outside your covered zone.’

Dean closed the phone and lowered it, grateful that he had his back to the angel so that he wouldn’t see the look on his face. Of course he couldn’t reach him. It would never be that simple.

‘What are you gonna do to Sam?’ he asked, trying as ever to keep the fear out of his voice. He heard Castiel’s footsteps behind him as the angel moved toward him. Slow, measured, precise. The footsteps of an emotionless higher power. There was nothing human there, no empathy. Only manipulation.

‘Nothing,’ Castiel said. ‘He’s going to do it to himself.’ If Dean didn’t know better he might have said that there was regret in Castiel’s tone. If there was, he knew it wasn’t for his brother. Just for the war being more difficult. Nothing personal. He had no idea what this was doing to Dean, none. He didn’t care, either. Everything that Dean had thought had been building between them was a lie.

Dean turned his head to face him, fighting back the frustration that threatened to turn to outright anger. He wasn’t going to let him get away with continuing to pretend he cared. It was an insult to Sam to let the pretence go on.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he challenged. Castiel just looked down, avoiding Dean’s gaze. Making him angry. ‘Oh right, right,’ he said, taking a few steps forward. ‘You gotta tow the company line.’ Cold. Hard. Unfeeling. How could Sammy have ever thought that angels were something good? They couldn’t give less of a fuck about humanity. They only cared about saving their own skins. No better than demons. Castiel looked up at him, acting like he was hurt by Dean’s actions toward him. Dean didn’t know why he bothered. He wasn’t fooling anyone. Time to cut the bullshit. ‘What are you doing here, Cas?’

Castiel took a breath, looked nervous.

‘We’ve been through much together, you and I. I just wanted to say... I’m sorry it ended like this.'

Dean has to fight back the derisive laugh he felt forming in his chest. He was too angry to even go there.

‘Sorry?’ he said. He couldn’t keep it in anymore. The anger soared up through him like flame, heat coursing through his limbs and then his hand was forming a fist that flew at the angel’s face. It collided with Castiel’s jaw with a metallic clang. Pain shot up Dean’s arm. The force of the punch had him with his back to the angel, and when he flexed his hand white heat shot through his fingers. But the feeling of punching Cas, of doing something physical with his rage was satisfying in spite of the fire that was now dulling to an ache in his knuckles. It didn’t make it go away, though. In mere seconds it was rising up in him again, his heart pounding, jaw clenched.

‘It’s Armageddon, Cas, you need a bigger word than “sorry”,’ he snapped as he turned around. Castiel’s face was as expressionless as always, but there was something in his eyes that Dean hadn’t seen before. A desperation. A pleading.

‘Try to understand, this has been long foretold,’ the angel said. ‘This is your-’

‘Destiny?’ interrupted Dean, trying to keep his voice level and failing. It bridled with the rage inside him, the heat that was pulsing in his chest. How could Castiel act like he was sorry? He didn’t even know what the fucking word meant. Just pawns in the angels’ fucking game, that’s all Dean was to him. He took a breath, looking at the man who had dragged him out of hell, and for what? ‘Don’t give me that crap. Destiny, “god’s plan”, its all a bunch of _lies_ , you poor stupid son of a bitch!’ His voice rose in a crescendo. Did Castiel really believe all this shit? His eyes were... hurt. Confused.

Maybe... maybe he didn’t know what to believe. Pawns.

‘It’s all just a bunch of lies,’ Dean continued, ‘to keep me, _and_ you in line.’ He didn’t know where it had come from. Maybe it was the way the angel was looking at him, like he was seeing him for the first time. But suddenly Dean felt like he wasn’t the only one being fucked over by all this shit.

‘You know what’s real?’ he said. Cas just kept looking at him like he had all the answers. Well, Dean was never one to admit he didn’t have them, except to Sam, and Sam wasn’t here so he was damn well going to try and give Cas some of the answers he clearly wanted. ‘People,’ he said. ‘Families, that’s real. And you’re gonna watch ‘em all _burn_?’

‘What is so worth saving?’ said Cas. Almost... angrily. He stepped towards Dean, his eyes locked on his, and suddenly Dean was sure of what he was seeing before. And he wasn’t the only one whose whole world was falling apart, and he wasn’t the only one who was losing everything. ‘I see _nothing_ but pain here,’ said Cas, his eyes swimming with hurt. ‘I see inside you, I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You’ll be at peace.’

There it was again. Desperation. He so wanted to believe what he was saying. _He so wants me to be ok._ ‘Even with Sam,’ said Cas. Dean swallowed. Castiel was anything but at peace. He was still pretending. He was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Dean. The angel averted his eyes, looked down like he always did when he was unsure of something, when Dean was challenging him. Dean wasn’t going to let it go that easy. There was no way he was letting the guy keep kidding himself. It was pissing Dean off.

‘You can take your peace,’ he said, angling his head to catch Cas’s eyes again, ‘and shove it up your lily-white ass.’ Cas looked shocked; hurt. And Dean knew. Dean knew that Castiel wanted nothing more than peace. Wanted nothing more than to go back to feeling nothing. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t feel nothing anymore. Dean knew. Now he just had to convince him that this was _right_.

‘You can keep your peace. ‘Cause I’ll take the pain, and the guilt. I’ll even take Sam as-is. It’s a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise.’ He was hitting a nerve; he could tell. His words were worming their way into the cracks in Castiel’s resolve, his faith in the way he had been living, and tearing them wider. Letting in the light. Allowing him to see. ‘This is simple, Cas,’ he said, raising his voice as the angel turned away. ‘No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right and there’s a wrong here, and you know it.’ Without seeing Cas’s eyes he couldn’t tell what he was thinking anymore; couldn’t see the cracks widening. Maybe he’d gone too far. Panic lurched through the anger and he yelled ‘Look at me!’, grabbing Cas’s shoulder and spinning him back around.

Yes. The cracks were there, eyes filled with hurt and worry and the feeling of falling apart. ‘You know I’m right,’ said Dean. Now he just had to show him that it wasn’t all lost. That there was another way. ‘You were gonna help me once,’ he continued. ‘You were gonna warn me about all this before they dragged you back to Bible camp. Help me, now, _please_.’ He didn’t like the desperation that was showing in his own voice, but he couldn’t help it. Cas was lost. If Dean could claim him as his, then they would fix this. All of this. Even Sam.

‘What would you have me do?’ said Cas softly, still avoiding eye contact.

'Get me to Sam, we can stop this before its too late.’

‘I do that, we will all be hunted.’ Finally, Cas looked up at him. ‘We will all be killed.’ He still wasn’t sure, Dean could tell. But he was close.

‘If there’s anything worth dying for,’ he said, ‘this is it.’

\---

Castiel looked at the man in front of him. He knew what he wanted to say. Knew what he couldn’t say. _.You. If there’s anything worth dying for, it’s you_. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t say _.I can’t let you be hunted. I need you to be safe._

So he said nothing, and looked away.

\---

Dean thought it would be easier than this. Still Cas was evading him, not letting his doubts solidify into doing the right thing, refusing to accept Dean’s words. Bile rose in his throat at the thought that he had even considered this working. Maybe he was wrong about Cas, had been right before. No feelings. Not caring for anyone. He turned away before he punched him again. The last thing he needed was a broken hand, and he’d almost ended up with that after the last hook.

‘You spineless, soul-less son of a bitch,’ he snapped. ‘What do you care about dying, you’re already dead.’ _Who was I kidding, thinking you might care about me._ ‘We’re done.’

He walked away.

\---

Castiel watched him turn his back, struggled to find the right words, any words at all that could make this stop without ruining everything, but he couldn’t find any.

‘Dean,’ he said, hoping that somehow the other man would turn around, that it would all be okay again.

Instead, Dean said again, ‘We’re done.’

\---

But then Cas was beside him again, and his hand was on Dean’s shoulder. When he spoke, his words were filled with hurt, and absolute desperation.

‘Dean,’ he said again. ‘Dean, I want nothing more than to help you. Please. You have to understand that.’

‘Well you’ve got a funny way of showing it,’ Dean snapped. Cas shifted, stepping in front of him, and now it was Dean who was avoiding looking Castiel in the eyes. Suddenly he could smell the soap Cas used on his hands, the smell of clean and sage and _him_ , and then the heat was all converging into pin pricks at the back of his eyes and he found himself blinking back tears.

‘I just want-’ Cas’s voice caught in his throat, like the words were sticking on their way out. ‘I just want everything to be okay. Everything that I’ve ever known, Dean, says that this is the right way to go. But you...’ Cas stopped trying to look him in the eye and looked at the floor, but did not remove his hand. ‘You make everything harder. You make everything different.’

Dean looked up at that. Cas was looking at the ground, forehead creased like he was in pain. Dean felt a tug inside, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to make Castiel’s uncertainty go away. But he didn’t know how. He had tried; he couldn’t do it. Together, they could fix this, if Castiel would see that the party line the angels kept spouting was wrong. That being human was so much more than pain, that it was worth fighting for.

He just had to make him _see_.

‘Cas,’ he said, his voice too quiet. ‘It’s not real, you know. All that Heaven and Earth bullshit that they tell you, about how there’s nothing but pain here. How it’s better to be at _peace,_ better not to feel. Because yeah, there’s pain, Cas. There is. But there’s other stuff too.’ He coughed, feeling suddenly and uncharacteristically awkward. ‘You know. Good stuff.’

Castiel looked up, desperation in his eyes once more. ‘Is there, Dean? Because I haven’t seen it. All I’ve seen is this world hurting you, and I can’t stand it. I pulled you out of Hell, but right now I can’t see how this is any better.’

‘Of course it’s better,’ Dean said, incredulous. Without thinking, he stepped forward, closing the gap between them. ‘Cas, there’s bad stuff, sure. Hell, there’s no way I could deny that. But not feeling _anything _? That thing you guys call “peace”? I’ll take the bad if it means I get the good as well.’__

Castiel finally looked up, and when his eyes locked onto Dean’s there was no way Dean could have looked away.

‘Really, Dean? What good things have happened to you, lately?’

The word was out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to intercept it.

‘You.’

It was like watching a turbulent liquid form to a solid in Castiel’s eyes. Dean had said the magic word.

And then it was like electricity, like suddenly everything had come together and now it all made sense and suddenly Dean didn’t think Cas had been the only one who was unsure about things, and he knew what he had to do. Dean closed the gap between them and his lips collided with Castiel’s. The angel opened his mouth in surprise and Dean seized the opportunity to run his tongue along the other man’s lips and inside. After a second, he felt Cas relax into the kiss and then Dean was putting his hands on Cas’s hips and pulling him in. He knew that angels probably didn’t get much opportunity to do kissing, what with the holiness and all, but if there was one ‘good thing’ on this earth for humans that Dean was the perfect person to illustrate the awesomeness of to a newcomer, it was this.

Cas’s hand slid up his shoulder and then it was on Dean’s neck, his fingertips tentatively running up to his hair and all Dean could think about was the heat of Cas’s mouth on his and the smell of him and the heat of their bodies pressed against each other and it was all too much.

Cas seemed to have a surge of confidence just then, because he was moving his hands to Dean’s hips and working up his shirt and then his hands were on Dean’s skin and it was like an electric crackle right through him. Dean moved one of his hands up into Castiel’s hair and the angel let out a moan, and actual honest-to-god moan, and suddenly it seemed that what happened with Cas’s mouth had a direct correlation with what was happening in Dean’s pants, because _oh sweet fucking Jesus_ and then he thought, no.

Oh sweet fucking Castiel.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see anything but stars behind his eyes and then he realised that unless he didn’t break for breath Cas was never going to. He tore his lips away from the other’s, but pressed his forehead against Cas’s. His heart was pounding, he could feel it beating in every inch of his body, breathing heavy and ragged.

This was _definitely_ something good.

As if he was reading Dean’s mind, Cas said, ‘I see what you mean.’ Dean almost laughed. Instead, his heart fluttered as he was reminded of what he had just taught Castiel – of how much, exactly, he had to lose. He had to get this under control.

'Cas, you gotta help me. We do this, and I swear to your dear old man that I will show you _every fucking thing_ there is that’s good – no, that’s downright fucking awesome – in this world, and I’ll kiss you like this every god damn day. But we gotta fix this first.’

Castiel nodded, then disappeared, leaving nothing in Dean’s arms but a memory of how his dark hair had felt twisted around Dean’s fingertips, and the faintest smell of soap.

\---

It felt like an eternity. Dean paced up and down the room, that same god-damn fucking room with it’s stupid fucking paintings, listening to the screams. This was ridiculous. Cas had to get back soon. A million fevered thoughts ran through his mind. _You fucked it up, you’ve fucked it all up, why couldn’t you have shown him some fucking kittens or something, he isn’t coming back, you misjudged it, he was just kissing you back to be polite – to be_ polite? _Even angels aren’t that polite, but still, what the fuck did you do, Dean? Shit. Shit shit shit._

Then a hand was on his shoulder and the wall was coming toward to his face and it was all so fast, after an eternity of nothingness and pacing there was the tightness of the grip and being turned so that his back hit the wall instead of his face and then Castiel was there with his hand over Dean’s mouth. The angel pulled out a knife – no, not a knife, _the_ knife – and held it too close. His hand smelt like soap and sage, fresh and clean and oh-so-achingly familiar, and then Dean was standing there against a wall with an angel pulling a knife on him and all he could think about were all the times he’d got close enough to Cas to smell that smell and how even though Cas’s hand was pressed over Dean’s face it was gentle. Forceful enough to hold him there, sure, but gentle.

Cas looked at him, and somehow Dean knew to keep quiet. He nodded to let the angel know he understood, and Cas let him go, taking the clean smell away. Then he was taking the knife and rolling up his sleeve and Dean thought _Wait, hang on, what the fuck?_ but then Cas was running the blade over his skin and blood was dripping thick and red down his arm. Dean didn’t ask questions; he was supposed to be staying quiet, after all. He stepped back instinctively out of Cas’s way, his heart pounding in his throat, and then Cas was smearing blood on the wall and something in Dean’s chest seized up and said _He came back for you_ and Dean tried to pretend that it hadn’t.

‘Castiel!'

The two men snapped around. Zachariah.

The Seraph marched toward them. ‘Would you mind explaining just what the hell you’re doing?’

For half a second, Dean thought _We’re fucked,_ but then Cas’s hand was on the symbol drawn in his blood on the wall and then there was light everywhere and then Zachariah was gone and _What the actual fuck is Cas doing?_

‘He won’t be gone long,’ said Cas. The old certainty was back in his voice, but it wasn’t a certainty in something he’d had before. ‘We have to find Sam now.’

Dean turned to face him. ‘Where is he?’

‘I dunno,’ said Cas, handing the blade to Dean. ‘But I know who does. We have to stop him, Dean. From killing Lilith.’

‘But Lilith’s gonna break the final seal,’ said Dean, not knowing where Castiel was going with this.

‘Lilith is the final seal,’ Cas said urgently. ‘She dies, the end begins.’


	2. Something Building

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They haven't talked about it since. Haven't had a chance to. But now, if Cas is right, he's going to die in the morning, and there are some things that Dean won't let pass undealt with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in S5 E3 'Free to Be You and Me'

They hadn’t talked about it. Hadn’t had the chance to. Dean had been avoiding even thinking about it, to be honest; the discovery that Cas was dead had been like a knife to the heart, and when he saw the angel alive he had thought his heart might stop beating. That might just have been the stomach cancer, but whatever. The angel would be the death of him.

And now here they were, sat opposite each other in a brothel of all places, and every glance between the two of them had been electric since they’d been thrown back together. No, not thrown back together – since Cas had come to find him.

Dean didn’t want to face up to it. Honestly, it was the last thing he wanted to do. For one thing, he had bigger fish to fry. That Lucifer problem, for instance. He had done his utmost to ignore how he felt when he thought Cas was dead, how he felt when he found out that he was alive. How he felt when Cas had come to him. The crackle between them when Cas had asked for his help, the connection there. The fact that he was so close Dean could smell him. Cas stood too close, he always stood too close, and the problem wasn’t that Dean didn’t want him there. It was that he wanted him there too badly.

So he had tried his best to be surly, to be uncommunicative and throw Castiel off. To joke. But joking was useless with Cas. He never understood a single god damn reference. It made Dean’s first – his primary – defence line useless.

So when Cas had asked for his help, “Because you are the only one who will help me,” he had gone, begrudgingly, and he had not leaned over and kissed Cas when he said that, even though everything in him was screaming for him to. And then when he found out about Castiel’s... experience problem, he didn’t say I can show you everything. I can kiss you and fuck you and show you everything. Instead, he took him to a brothel, and then there they were, drinking beer with Cas looking absolutely terrified.

Of course it went wrong. Castiel was incapable of being human, incapable of the lack of feeling required for a good, hard, meaningless fuck. Cas was... well, he was Cas. Dean understood all too well the hurt the angel had caused Chastity. He knew all too well the feeling that Cas gave you when he looked at you like that. It was like he cracked you open, right to your core. Like he looked at all the parts of you that hurt and made them sting but somehow made them okay at the same time. And once he’d done it, you couldn’t forget, couldn’t shake it. No matter how much you tried not to think about it, you couldn’t stop. It would wake you in the night with tears streaming down your face and knock you sideways when you were driving for no god damn reason at all. Cas cracked you open and stood inside you and made everything hurt and everything fucking wonderful and-

And Dean tried his best not to think about it. He really did.

But then Cas being Cas meant that they were running out of the back door of the aforementioned brothel, and it felt...good. For the first time since Sam left, just for that minute, Dean felt okay. Lighter. A bit like himself again. So he laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, dropping his arm on the angel’s shoulder. Shit, why not be honest? Cas could see right through him anyway. “It’s been a long time since I laughed that hard.” They reached the Impala, and Cas slipped around to the passenger side, and suddenly Dean realised that it wasn’t ‘the first time since Sam left’. “It’s been more than a long time. Years.”

They were back at the empty house that Cas had found for them to hide out in in no time. The ride back was quiet; too quiet. Cas tended not to say anything if he didn’t have to, and Dean’s usual reserve of dirty jokes would be lost on him anyway. So they just sat there, and Dean felt the sting of Castiel under his ribs, where he sat and made everything hurt and everything okay, and he said nothing. When they arrived, Cas got out and Dean followed him. He watched the angel walk ahead, stand in the corridor, wait for Dean to close the door behind them. Without the engine, the silence was deafening. Dean couldn’t stand it; he has to start talking before he went completely insane.

“Cas,” he said. The angel turned around.

“Yes?”

Dean looked at him. His hair was rumpled, tie almost completely undone. The amount of neck on display was, for Castiel, verging on the obscene. Everything since that kiss, the night Lucifer had risen, seemed to have been surging towards this moment. Everything; every hurt, every electric glance, every time Cas stood so close to Dean that Dean could smell him. Every time Cas looked at him and made him feel raw. Like he was alive again. Everything and all of it surged towards this moment, to here, where the silence was too much to bear and the pressure of it, the weight of it was pounding in Dean’s ears.

“Cas, I’m not a liar.”

Cas furrowed his brow at him. “What do you mean, Dean?”

“I mean I may be many things, Cas, but a liar ain’t one of them. I said you’re not going to die a virgin. Not on my watch. And I meant that.” The words were spilling out before he could stop them; his head was pounding and his face was on fire and his mouth was dry but Cas was looking back at him and Dean couldn’t look away.

Cas closed the distance between them. His natural state seemed to want him to be two inches away from Dean’s face, and Dean couldn’t say he blamed him. It was where he wanted Cas to be, too.

“Are we going to another brothel?” asked Cas, his expression dubious. Dean almost laughed, the ghost of it crooking up the corners of his mouth.

“Not so much.”

He closed the gap, planting his lips firmly on Castiel’s. Cas yielded under him instantly, like no time at all had passed since the night of their first kiss, like Cas hadn’t died and been resurrected since then, like there had never been any distance between them at all, like their lips had never broken apart. Cas still smelt the same; Dean put his hands on the sides of the angel’s neck, pulling at him, wanting him closer. Castiel obliged; he was sliding his hands under Dean’s coat to his hips and pulling him in, so that their bodies were pressed firmly against each other. _Too many layers._

As if he had read Dean’s mind – for all Dean knew, he had – Cas let go of Dean’s hips and shrugged off his trench coat, letting it fall to the floor. He reached up and tugged Dean’s coat off him, too, and Dean let him. Cas didn’t stop there, though. Dean closed his eyes and kissed him deeper, wanting him, _needing_ him, his fingers all in Cas’s hair. He felt the angel’s hands move over him, pulling back his shirt, then tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Dean let him pull it off over his head, his chest feeling a pang as he was forced to break off the kiss to let the fabric pass. When it was off, Cas caught his eye, and suddenly Dean didn’t want to close his again.

Life. That’s what was in Castiel’s eyes. When Cas looked at him, he was everything and nothing all at once. This was the man who had brought him back to life in the physical sense, but it was so much more than that. If Dean was being honest with himself, Cas was the only person who had managed to make him _feel_ something other than numbness or pain since...

The raw sting of life and the feeling of being safe and okay. And laughing like he hadn’t in years. And Castiel, Castiel was everything.

Dean kissed him again with a renewed vigour. He wanted all of him, all of him at once, but now he was topless and Castiel still had _far_ too many clothes on.

He tugged off Cas’s suit jacket and tugged the already loose tie over his head. It was frantic, urgent; but when it came to the buttons, Dean slowed down. As much as the need to have Cas was surging through him right now, he had to bear in mind what he was supposed to be doing this for. His thinly veiled excuse.

He carried on kissing him, Cas’s lips soft and pliant against his own. His fingers traced down the other man’s shirt, deftly unbuttoning it as they went. When the last one was undone, Dean slid his hands up Cas’s abdomen, across his chest, up to his shoulders, and Cas let him slip it off.

“Now we’re even,” he murmured against Cas’s lips. He opened his eyes slightly and pulled back, looking at Cas through his eyelashes in a way that always made girls go weak at the knees. Cas swallowed, and Dean had a sudden need to kiss his adam’s apple. So he did. He leaned in and breathed in the smell of him, running his lips in butterfly kisses across Cas’s neck and up towards his ear. Cas let out a soft moan – the second time that Dean had been able to make him make that noise – and as before his cock throbbed with want at the sound of it. “Jesus, Cas, do you have to make sounds like that? You’re killing me here.”

“I can stop, if you want.”

Dean looked Cas straight in the eye. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

As he pressed his lips hard into Cas’s he put his hands on the angel’s hips and pulled his body closer again. Cas’s hands were running over Dean’s arms, and then his hips were colliding with Cas’s and he wasn’t the only one with a pants-problem going on. He let out a hiss. “Fuck, Cas.” He wanted nothing more than to take him, to fuck him good and hard, but they weren’t here for Dean, they were here for Cas.

He kissed Cas’s neck again, sucking it gently and making him moan. He moved his lips down to Cas’s shoulder while sliding his hands to the angel’s belt. He fumbled with it, his desperate need making his fingers stumble over it, but in a few seconds he managed to get it undone. Without it, the pants easily fell to the floor, leaving Castiel standing there in nothing but a pair of tight white boxer shorts. Dean looked down and licked his lips in spite of himself. He felt a surge of his usual bravado, the confidence he had with women, and said

“I want you. Now.”

He glanced around. They were still standing in the hallway, the dust-covered living room to their left. The table Dean had sat at earlier, waiting for Cas to come back, was no good for anything, and those chairs were uncomfortable as hell. In the far corner, though, was an old, squashed-looking two seat couch. Dusty as hell, but Dean would work with what he had.

“Come on,” he said. Normally he would’ve grabbed Cas’s coat, or at the very most his belt, but his clothes – including his trousers and shoes, which he’d kicked off – were now lying in a pile around them on the floor. So Dean grabbed his hand.

And this, this right here, was something Dean had never done before. This was obviously a first for Castiel, but it struck Dean now, as he led Cas across the room by the hand, how much this was a first for him too. Even when he’d been with people he’d cared about, he’d never been one for holding hands. But now, the awkwardness of it lasted only a second before it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

When they reached the sofa, he turned to Cas.

“Sit down,” he said, planting a soft kiss on Castiel’s lips.

Cas did as he was told. Dean looked down at him, and Cas looked up with the same expression he had worn just before Dean had kissed him; sad. Desperate. Wanting Dean to show him something good. Something worthwhile. Well, Dean was going to.

He turned and knelt down between Castiel’s legs, putting a hand on each of his thighs.

“Come here.”

Cas shuffled towards him and leaned in to kiss him, his hands running up Dean’s shoulders and into his hair. After a minute, Cas shifted himself further forward to kiss Dean’s shoulder and Dean felt his the angel’s dick press hard into his abdomen. Dean let out a low growl. He put a hand on Cas’s chest, pressing him back onto the couch.

He dipped his head down and started kissing up the inside of Cas’s thigh, feeling the delicious heat of him. When he reached the top of them he paused, taking Cas in for a moment, laid out in front of him, head thrown back, mouth slightly open.

“Please, Dean,” Cas whimpered, making it hard for Dean to breathe. “Please?”

Dean didn’t have to ask for Castiel to lift up his hips, to let him tug down his pants. Dean started out gentle, placing light kisses up the side of Cas’s shaft, making it throb. Slowly, he opened his mouth more and more with each kiss, running his tongue across it. He paused over the head, Cas taut beneath him, before swirling his tongue around the head of his dick, languidly kissing it. Cas shuddered, letting out a strangulated noise that Dean really, really wanted to make him make again. He lowered his mouth down over Cas’s cock, sucking and licking it, and Cas moaned in time with it. After a minute, his hips started bucking, thrusting himself into Dean’s mouth, and Dean had to place his hands on his hips to make him behave. His tongue was swirling all over Cas’s dick, in between him taking it deep into his mouth and sucking it, relishing the noises Cas was making and the way his hips were still trying to fuck his mouth.

Cas’s breath was hitching, his movements getting more frantic, and then a steady stream of _Oh Dean oh Dean oh Dean oh Dean oh Dean_ was coming out of his mouth, and it was almost enough to make Dean cum in his pants right there. Instead he kept his rhythm going, riding the wave with Cas, and then with an almighty “Oh, fuck!” and a shudder he felt Cas cum. Instinctually he swallowed it, holding on and keeping it going for him as long as possible. When it was done, he looked up and smirked.

“I’ve never heard you swear, before, Cas. You wanna be careful, it might become a habit.”

Cas looked up at him, his eyes like saucers, mouth hanging open.

“Dean... That was... I...”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Dean, trying to go back to his usual nonchalance and failing.

“No, Dean.” Cas sat up, putting his hands on either side of Dean’s neck. “Let me do that to you.”

Dean’s cock was raging, straining against his tight jeans, and he was so hard he knew it wouldn’t take much to get him there. He didn’t need telling twice.

Cas sat back on the couch and Dean stood. Just the friction of unzipping his jeans against his rigid cock was enough to make him bite his bottom lip, but he managed it and pulled them down, kicking them and his boots to one side. Cas was looking at him in a way that only Cas could; like he was everything. With wonder and awe and not a trace of disgust or anger. Dean felt something in his chest pull towards him, and stepped forward, straddling Castiel and lowering himself onto his lap.

Cas slid his hands around Dean’s hips, pulling him in, running butterfly kisses up Dean’s abdomen that made something in Dean’s gut flutter and a guttural groan escape his mouth. Cas was a quick learner; his angel-powers of observation were never meant to be used like this, but was Dean was glad they were. Cas had been watching him, learning what Dean liked with an astuteness that humans lacked, and now he was using that to pull Dean to pieces kiss by kiss. Cas’s hands were all over him, running up his back and Dean was hunched over to lean into his kiss and wanting him, wanting him, wanting him. Cas hooked his thumbs under the waistband of Dean’s boxers and tugged them down, leaving Dean spread naked before him.

‘Like you did to me?’ he asked. Always so careful, not wanting to let anyone down.

‘Yeah, Cas,’ Dean said too quietly, barely able to breathe. ‘Like I did to you.’

The second he felt Cas’s breath on his cock he threw his head back and let out a hiss. Too much, it was too much. His lips were dry and his heart was pounding and then Cas’s lips touched his cock and there was nothing, nothing at all except _that_.

Dean fell all to pieces. If he’d have had to tell you what exactly the angel was doing to him at any specific moment, he couldn’t have. It was a thousand feelings and a thousand touches at once, a surge of _oh_ and _oh, Cas_. He reached down and slid his fingers into Cas’s hair, tightening them, tugging at it and in response Cas picked up the pace. Dean knew he was moaning but he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but clutch at Cas and pull him deeper, deeper, wanting more and more until a shudder ran through him and _oh, fuck. Fuck._

The world came back into focus slowly, through a haze of stars. The first thing he felt acutely was Cas’s hands on his ass, his thumbs idly stroking Dean’s skin. It seemed he had closed his eyes. He blinked them open, and he was looking down, and Cas was looking up at him with an expression of such ridiculously innocent pride that it was too much, and Dean started to laugh.

“Did I do something wrong?” Cas asked, his expression falling into one of worry, a crease between his eyebrows. Dean stopped laughing as abruptly as he had started.

“No, Cas. You did nothing wrong.”

He took Cas’s face in his hands and ran little light kisses all over it, not knowing what to say. Then his mouth opened and solved the problem for him, his forehead pressed against Cas’s.

“Cas,” he said.

“Yes Dean?”

“Don’t ever leave me again.”


End file.
